


Curtains Close

by GhostlyEyes



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fatal Injury, Hurt No Comfort, Not A Fix-It, Not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostlyEyes/pseuds/GhostlyEyes
Summary: He remembered someone telling him once that they wanted their life to be excited when they finally went, wanted their life to flash before their eyes, and be proud of it. Who said that to him? They felt important. His mind snapped into focus around the name, bringing him out of his haze of rapid blood loss and the choking air.Danny.Of course though, with his consciousness being brought back so suddenly so did the pain and panic. His throat felt like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes, no possible way he could call for help. His train of thought stopped there.Jon.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Kudos: 12





	Curtains Close

**Author's Note:**

> CW/  
> Death, Fatal Injury, Pain, Blood

When the dust settled he opened his eyes, which honestly didn’t do much as wherever he was seemed to shut out most if not all of the light, maybe he was blind. He smiled painfully at the thought. He felt numb, and cold, something was pressing on his chest, maybe, too hard to tell.  
His mind was a twisted mess of a thing. He remembered someone telling him once that they wanted their life to be excited when they finally went, wanted their life to flash before their eyes, and be proud of it. Who said that to him? They felt important. His mind snapped into focus around the name, bringing him out of his haze of rapid blood loss and the choking air. _Danny._  
Of course though, with his consciousness being brought back so suddenly so did the pain and panic. His throat felt like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes, no possible way he could call for help. His train of thought stopped there. _Jon._ Jon had been next to him when the building came down around them both. Had he made it? Or was he trapped and bleeding out like him?  
Tim tried to strain his ears through the incessant ringing and muffled sounds of pulverized drywall trickling through the cracks for any signs of another breath, or really any human sound or movement at all. He set down his one good hand and would have cried if he had the strength for it when he felt fabric next to him moving unevenly as short breaths were pulled through. He could imagine the soft cardigan the feeling belonged to, but he had to be sure. It was still too dark to see but a little way to the side his hand grazed some broken glass and twisted metal. Jon.  
Tim tried his best to move his body from the seated position he had dragged himself into, just to get closer to Jon. He didn’t like the man but he didn’t want to die alone. Something tugged at Tim’s chest stopping him from getting any closer to Jon. He reached up to try and move whatever was stopping him but the metal didn’t stop at his chest, it seemed to go far deeper than that. Maybe that was why it’s so hard to breathe.  
He brought his hand back down and felt for Jon again, the man always seemed to get out of situations like this but as Tim thought about the two of them down there, Basira and Daisy likely caught under more rubble together in a nearly identical situation, he doubted really any of them would make it out. He couldn’t wrap his mind around anyone making it out of the museum, he would have laughed if there hadn’t been a metal pipe stuck through one of his lungs.  
He put his hand down on Jon’s chest, feeling any semblance of life in the ruins felt like a godsend at this point, even if it wouldn’t last for long. He wasn’t sure how long he sat for when he heard sputtering next to him,  
“Where?” A voice croaked out.  
Tim couldn’t respond but he readjusted his mostly numb and quickly cooling arm to Jon’s hand that seemed to be in a similar situation, if not worse off. The skin still healing from his nasty burn.  
Jon’s breath quickened, his pulse seemed to beat rapidly and uneven under his skin. “Tim?” His voice was pained. He could feel Jon’s eyes focus on him, a heavy and familiar weight he was far too used to now to bat an eye at. “Oh god Tim, I’m so sorry.” Ah, he must have found the metal sticking out of his chest. He wondered how Jon could see it briefly before Tim could feel the weight of Jon’s eyes lift off of him. Tim’s hand was too numb at this point to feel a pulse but he couldn’t hear Jon breathing, and couldn’t feel the weight of his eyes on him anymore.  
_Bastard. He left me to die alone._ Tim’s thoughts dimmed around him, he felt like he was floating as his life coming to a close in the corners of his mind. He knew that he wouldn’t be far behind Jon now. He smiled as the curtains came to a close around the wax museum and the circus. At least he had been proud of his exit.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not must of a writer but this has been banging around in my head for a while. Not proofread or anything I'm just throwing my trash out the window


End file.
